A Writer’s Journal

GRRR! 5:30 in the morning, I am awakened by leaf blowers. You know how much I hate leaf blowers. And our city code forbids the use of leaf blowers from May-September, and always at 5:30 AM. So I stomp down to pitch a fit and call the cops — and it’s city public works trucks using them! You can bet City Hall is going to get an earful. Not acceptable.

My wrist is in bad shape. I put too much pressure on it yesterday — two carloads of stuff into storage. Heavy stuff. For those of you with driveways and garages, it may not seem like a big deal, but remember I’m in a third floor walk-up, and have to not only navigate the stairs, but cross a large courtyard to the street and/or parking lot, carrying the stuff. No dollies or anything else. So, filling the car with 18 boxes (which is what the car can hold) means 36 trips up and down the 3 flights of stairs. Once I get to the storage facility, it’s fine, because I load everything onto dollies and roll them right in to the unit; I’m now on the ground floor.

There’s more room in the living room, though. And I managed to save the old couch from the 1950’s. For awhile there, it looked like it was beyond salvation — on one side, the wooden pegs have come loose, and the elastic struts underneath suffered dry rot. But I stripped the struts out, stripped it all down to just the wooden frame, which is still great with a little TLC, washed it. I’m going to get some wood glue and maybe some new pegs and put it back together again, and then put it in storage during the furniture swap. When I move, I’ll make a new bottom cushion and back cushion with upholstery foam and create covers for them in whatever fabric I want — it’s a nice piece of furniture in a unique style. The back corners already have angle braces. I can add some in the front corners, and then I don’t need the struts. It had wooden supports placed every few feet. So it will all be good.

But now I have a six foot wooden couch frame upended in the corner of the living room until the furniture swap happens!

The cats are having a fit!

I’m also reaching a point of lots of stuff stacked, because until the bookcases and the bureau come in, I have no place to put the clothes and books that are going IN them. There’s a bit of chaos going on.

Wasn’t able to get all the client projects cleared up, so I’ll finish them today and probably start the writing retreat tomorrow. I think, for the remainder of this particular Jupiter Retrograde, I have to block off Thursdays as just for hearth-and-home. For whatever reason, it’s got a strong influence on me, and I better just go with it.

As far as the wrist goes, I can’t see a doctor because I have no insurance (get that damned health reform bill done, Congress! All of you who voted to bail out AIG and the banks– who shouldn’t have been rewarded for their bad decisions with taxpayer money– if you can afford that, you can afford to reform health care, so stop dragging your feet. And stop calling it “socialized medicine” when it’s not and you have no clue as to the actual definition of the term. “Socialized medicine” is a very specific set of procedures, none of which I’ve seen included in any drafts of the current health care bill possibilities. If you can’t learn about that which you speak, shut the eff up. Don’t regurgitate inaccurate talking points), and my acupuncturist is out of town until fall. I’m going to take some ibuprofen, wrap it, brace it if I have to, and hope for the best. Only turning or heavy lifting bothered it yesterday — EVERYTHING bothers it today. I discovered that I can’t turn on the ignition using my left hand, so driving will be interesting.

Of course, when I had insurance, the usual round was: Go the the doctor; get sent to another doctor; get sent to a third doctor who sends me for X-rays. Go back to one of the three doctors who shrugs and writes a prescription for narcotic pain killers that I’m not going to take anyway, and I probably won’t even fill the prescription. Yeah, that’s “health care.” And it would be nice if any of the doctors and the X-ray people would actually talk to each other and have the same information.

Aside: the absolutely useless insurance company our union forced us to switch to (before I lost my insurance entirely), which isn’t accepted by most doctors or clinics in this area –is owned by the same parent company that owns U-Haul. That explains a lot! There are just so many bad jokes I could make, and I’m not going to go there . . .

I’ve got some errands to run this morning, then finish off the client work, and then descend into my weekend writing retreat. I am so looking forward to it.

Czech lessons are going slowly, but I’m plodding away at it. I always have trouble with a language when I’m not immersed in the country. For instance, I can’t speak French in NY, but once I’m in Montreal, it comes back pretty quickly. I certainly don’t consider myself fluent, but I can get by. And that’s what I’m hoping with Czech — if I work steadily from now until I leave in mid-September, hopefully enough will stick so I can get by.

Decent morning’s writing, in spite of the unpleasant wake up. I look forward to a productive writing weekend, in spite of the wrist. I’m eager to get back to the page. I’ve had too much practical lately, and not enough creative.

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Archaeologist Dr. Gwen Finnegan is on the hunt for her lover’s killer. Shy historical researcher Justin Yates, frustrated with his failing relationship, jumps at the chance to join her on a real adventure through Europe, pursued by factions including Gwen’s ex-lover and nemesis, Karl, as they try to unspool fact from fiction in a multi-generational obsession with a statue of the goddess Medusa.
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Stuck in NYC when plans for their next expedition fall through, Gwen and Justin accept teaching jobs at different local universities. Adjusting to their day-to-day relationship, and juggling the academic and emotional demands of their students, they are embroiled in two different, disturbing, paranormal situations that have more than one unusual crossing point. Can they work together to find the answers? Or are new temptations too much to resist? For whom are they willing to put their lives on the line? Available on multiple digital channels here.

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Witchcraft, politics, and theatre collide as Morag D’Anneville and Secret Service agent Simon Keane fight to protect the Vice President of the United States -- or is it Morag who needs Simon’s protection more than the VP?
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Bonnie Chencko knows books change lives. But she never expected her life to change because she happened to duck into a small bookshop in Greenwich Village on a rainy late November night. She’s attracted to Rufus Van Dijk, the mysterious man who owns the bookshop in his ancestors’ building. A building filled with family ghosts, who are mysteriously disappearing. It’s up to Bonnie and her burgeoning Craft powers to rescue the spirits before their souls are lost forever. Buy Links here.

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Amanda Breck’s complicated life gets more convoluted when she finds the body of Lena Morgan in Central Park, identical to Amanda’s dream. Detective Phineas Regan is one case away from retirement; the last thing he needs is a murder case tinged by the occult. The seeds of their attraction were planted months ago, when Phineas investigated an attack on Amanda’s friend Morag. Now, fate is determined to draw them close. But can they work together to stop a wily, vicious killer, or will the murderer destroy them both?
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Full Circle: An Ars Concordia Anthology. Edited by Colin Galbraith. My story is “Pauvre Bob”, set at Arlington Race Track in Illinois is included in this wonderful collection of short stories and poetry. You can download it free here.